


Interlude: Nebulae

by shapechanger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Combat Stress, Comfort, F/M, Insomnia, PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shapechanger/pseuds/shapechanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus wakes in Tonks' flat in the early hours of the morning, and catches a glimpse of vulnerability.</p><p>[Extract/outtake from Such Deliberate Disguises, intended to be read after Chapter 2, but can be read as stand-alone.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Nebulae

When Remus woke, he was just conscious enough to notice the fact that the ceiling above him was decidedly not that of Grimmauld Place. This ought to have troubled him, but for whatever reason, it didn't. Barely managing to be completely awake, let alone capable of logical thought, he decided that the warmth of the blankets was much less complicated than trying to reason out anything else. He tilted his face forwards into what he at first thought was the pillows, beginning to slip back into sleep. When he felt hair brush his face, he started in confusion. A blur of blue and purple, shades of nebulae visible even in the shadowed dark of early morning, met his gaze. _Tonks. I'm in Tonks' bed. At Tonks' flat. It's so late it's early. What time is it?_ The thoughts came far more clearly now as he stole a glance at what turned out to be the nape of her neck, slender and peeking out of the collar of her pyjamas, a pair of soft grey trousers and a worn out concert t-shirt. If he concentrated, he could just about make out the list of cities scrolling the length of her spine in the darkness.

 _How did I let her talk me into this?_ Not that it had taken much persuasion, or much talking, really, Remus admitted to himself somewhat ruefully. There was very little he could refuse Tonks if she asked. And he'd wanted to. He'd wanted this closeness that should have been forbidden to him.

She was still asleep, or so it seemed, her breathing soft and even. _How long since she's managed to sleep properly?_ A long time, he suspected, especially given her recent and frequent exposure to Dementors. It occurred to him then that the times they'd fallen asleep in one another's company were likely exceptions to the rule, or else he hadn't been awake to see her react any differently. As though in response to the thought, she shifted uneasily, murmuring a sentence he couldn't fully comprehend. He saw her shoulders tense and the way that she began to curl in on herself, arm thrown across her face as though to block out sunlight, though there was nothing to block. Not wanting to brush his hands against her while she slept in such discomfort, instead he tucked his face back against the nape of her neck and remained still, waiting, gauging her response.

At first, Tonks relaxed against him, seeming to settle, but Remus knew better than to think that was the end of it, remembering his own reactions from the first war, the unforgiving tides that washed in the moment that he started to drift. As it turned out, he was right. About twenty minutes later, she woke with a gasp and he was slammed back into the mattress by his shoulders, her free hand reaching swiftly for her wand. It didn't quite knock the breath out of him but it was damned close, and he reached for her wrist, pressing thumb against her pulse point. He'd done it before to bring her back to awareness, though never in such a moment as this. "Tonks, it's me," he said, voice low but firm.

When her body folded inward where she was poised above him, Remus knew that it was safe to touch her. Sitting up, he released her wrist, fingers then gently brushing her shoulders. "Bad dreams?" he asked, quietly, ducking just enough to see her face. When no answer seemed to be forthcoming, he nodded. "Me too."

" _Don't_ suggest Dreamless Sleep." When Tonks finally spoke, her voice was defensive. "I don't want it."

"I wasn't going to. It...doesn't always help, blunting the edge of whatever troubles you. Makes it harder to deal with during waking hours." There were no tears in her eyes, but there was a flinch when Tonks looked at him that he hated to see. "What helps?"

It was clear that _nothing_ was on the tip of her tongue, and for a startling second, Remus realised that in some respects, she was alone for much of what she dealt with in the same way that he was. How many people would understand the aches and pains and energy cost of changing her appearance, particularly the major changes? How many other people knew the price of living multiple lives at once? Not many, and more than that, he'd never seen her confide in anyone besides the quiet moments where she spoke with Sirius and himself. Even then, it sometimes took coaxing to get her to state precisely what was bothering her. For someone who gave the appearance of being so open, Tonks was nonetheless largely careful about what she said and when she said it, even if most people didn't realise it. Society simply didn't think the way that she did, and Remus had seen the effects of combat stress before, had suffered from them, _still_ suffered from them upon occasion, given the situations he was often placed in. 

Insomnia was mild, compared to some of the other options, and he knew that they both suffered from that, knew that even that could be serious if the effects intensified over time. Now it appeared that night terrors were on the list for both of them, as well. It wasn't a commonality that made him happy, because for her, it had to be worse. While he and others in the Order sometimes gained a temporary reprieve from combat situations, the Aurors among their number who were still active at the Ministry did not, on call twenty-four hours a day in the truest sense of the words.

"I could have hurt you." It wasn't an answer to his question, her statement given in a quiet voice.

"No." The reply was firm. "I'm as quick on the draw as you are, Tonks, and I sleep just as lightly. There have been nights where I've done the exact same thing you just did." He smiled faintly then, though it wasn't a happy one, and he wasn't sure if she could see it. "War doesn't do much for one's sense of security." Foregoing further elaboration, instead, he reached out and drew the blankets and sheets up around her shoulders. "You'll not hurt me. I know that." And he _did_ know that, knew that she would never harm him on purpose of her own volition. When she rested back down into the blankets, her back to him and shoulders tense, he felt rather than saw her nod of acknowledgement in response to his words. He let himself settle as well, leaving a little space between them for her comfort, but Tonks turned over to face him a moment later, eyes dark and serious. "Sorry for waking you."

"I was awake," Remus said quietly, wondering if what he was about to do was too much, hating himself for his hesitation even as he reviewed all the reasons why he shouldn't. _Sod it._ He folded his arms around her, let his hands settle at the base of her back, knowing full well that he shouldn't get used to this kind of physical contact, to being allowed to comfort her when it would only be torn away in the end. _This is a terrible idea. I don't care._ Terrible idea or not, he felt her relax against him, felt her curl closer, and lowered his face against her hair, thumbs massaging in small circles against her t-shirt.

When Remus fell back to sleep, lulled by the sound of her breathing and the soft blur of colour that was her in the dark, it was with the nonsensical meditation that this must be what it felt like to hold a galaxy, all stars and debris and hidden depths.


End file.
